


Sweet Revelation

by yekoc



Category: Love Simon (2018)
Genre: Comeplay, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Mild Kink, PWP, movieverse, not kidding when i say pwp don't come in here looking for a plot, teenaged boys figuring stuff out together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 13:13:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14261739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yekoc/pseuds/yekoc
Summary: Simon is still a little bit of a mess. Bram kind of likes it that way.





	Sweet Revelation

The first time it happened, it took Simon a while to work out what was going on.

It was one of the rare afternoons when he and Bram had the house to themselves—his mom worked late on Wednesdays, but usually Nora was home, like, blending stuff in the kitchen. But there was some kind of school conference, or something—anyway, his dad was gone with Nora, and his mom was working, and there was, like, a lot of empty house. Empty, adult-free house.

It wasn’t like this had never happened before, but as cool as Simon’s parents were with the gay thing, sometimes he thought they were super overcompensating by trying to be strict-parent-normal about Bram, the way they would have had to if they’d been worried about him getting a girl pregnant. It meant he’d had to sit through not one but two excruciating condom conversations with his dad (“We did this, like, _six_ times in school already,” he tried to protest when the banana came out, but it was to no avail) and a very heavy consent talk with his mom.

“Just because you’re enjoying something, you can’t assume that the other person is,” she’d said. “You have to keep checking in before you do anything new. Past consent does not equal blanket consent!”

Her voice rose a little, and then she smiled and shook her head. “How much am I bothering you right now?”

“Like, not an insignificant amount,” said Simon.

“You know I have to do this, right?” she asked, and he nodded.

“I won’t be an asshole,” he said. “I promise.” _I’m too chickenshit to ask for anything anyways,_ he wanted to say, but that was definitely a Leah conversation.

What it all boiled down to was that his parents were borderline obsessed with the idea that he and Bram were releasing their teenaged male-male hormones onto any and every available surface, when really they’d barely moved past making out. Not least because all the involved adults went to great lengths to make sure they never had time alone together, but also at least a little— _okay, at least a lot_ , Simon’s brain admitted—because he was terrified.

“Terrified of what?” Leah asked, when he finally talked to her about it, his head upside-down on the bed next to hers, just like every important conversation they’d had since they were 7 years old.

“That I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” he said.

“Well, Si,” Leah said, her voice bubbling up like it did when she was trying to hold onto a laugh, “if you need me to explain the mechanics to you, I think I’ve picked some stuff up from the internet over the years—”

“Shut up,” said Simon, “I hate you so much. I mean, I get how it works or whatever—I think—but, like, that’s so different than being good at it?”

“Yeah,” said Leah. “I get that.”

“What if I suck?” Simon asked. “What if I’m so bad at it that Bram realizes he’s not even gay after all?”

“That’s pretty dismissive of his sexuality, Si,” Leah said, mocking his mom’s lecturing voice. “I mean, like, come on. You’re not going to _turn him straight_. If that worked, ex-gay therapy wouldn’t be such a scam.”

“Fine,” said Simon, “okay, duh, obviously not. But it could be so bad that he never wants to try again with me.”

“Babe,” said Leah, turning her head to look straight at him, “I think it’ll be easier than you realize. Everyone has to start somewhere. None of us knows what the fuck we’re doing. We’re seventeen.”

“Yeah,” Simon sighed. “I love you,” and she kissed his forehead.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to—to talk about it, with Bram. Even though he knew he should have. Instead, every time he saw Bram, even now, it was like popcorn started popping somewhere inside his chest and filling up his brain, or some shit. Some metaphor that meant that he couldn’t really think about much except the slow, easy way Bram smiled, or the way his ears stuck out a little bit, or—Simon could admit it—the way his butt looked in his soccer uniform. Sometimes Simon thought about his hands, too, how long his fingers were, how pretty they were, and then he always felt like a complete freak and had to concentrate on something else really hard.

And when they were alone together, like now, when they weren’t laughing about the way Jake Angwin had been so hungover he threw up in the middle of math class right on his test, like just _ruining_ it, they were usually too busy kissing to talk about what else they might be doing.

Kissing Bram was pretty much worth everything that had happened to Simon in the fall. It was worth every time his stomach had twisted with nausea when he saw Martin heading towards him in the hall, and it was worth letting his dad’s dumb jokes wash over him and trying not to react. It wasn’t worth fighting with Leah, not quite, but nothing was worth that and this—fuck—it came scarily close, Simon though, as Bram’s lips opened against his again.

They were on the couch, because Simon was such a coward that he couldn’t even invite Bram up to his _room_ , as though that was too suggestive. So they’d made Bagel Bites and put on a rerun of Law and Order SVU, and Simon made himself wait through the entire opening credits to the final dum-DUM before he leaned over and kissed Bram.

Everything about kissing Bram was great, but the best part—maybe—was the beginning, when he pressed a hand against Bram’s side to steady himself and Bram realized what he was doing and turned to look at him, that smile spreading like butter—honey—icing— _something delicious and sweet, I’m fucking ridiculous_ , thought Simon—across his face, and then Simon brought his other hand up to cup Bram’s jaw, because he liked that he could kind of feel the earring Bram wore sometimes, because he really really liked that earring, and then Bram was leaning the rest of the way in and it was like holding your breath for a really long time on a dare and then finally taking a gulp of air and everything coming back into focus around you.

Usually they made out during the commercials and then they kind of took a break in between to watch the show, which was good, because Simon’s body always needed a break. His dick needed a break. It was great that his mom was so into those stupid little pillows, because there were always like ten of them in his lap, and usually it was annoying but when Bram was over it was incredibly, embarrassingly convenient. Sometimes Simon kind of tried to figure out if Bram needed the pillows too, but he was too embarrassed to really _look_. Bram never complained about them, though.

This afternoon, though, the commercial ended and he could hear Stabler yelling at the pedophile of the week—there was the bang of a metal chair hitting the wall of the interrogation room—and Bram was still kissing him. Or he was kissing Bram, maybe. It was hard to tell.

He still had his hand cupped around Bram’s head, and Bram was kissing him really slowly, sucking a little bit on his bottom lip as he drew away, which always made Simon really crazy, like need-to-take-a-break crazy, but all he could think right now was that he wanted _more_ , and he tried to tug Bram closer, to get his mouth back. He ended up tugging on Bram’s ear, twisting the earring a little, and it must have not felt great, but instead of stopping Bram just reached up for Simon’s hand and closed his hand over it, tugged it down next to them and pressed it into the couch like he was going to keep it there, and then he leaned back in and got Simon’s bottom lip again, a little harder this time, and his hand was pressing Simon’s hand down and his whole body was leaning in over Simon’s, pushing him into the couch, and then he bit down on Simon’s lip, just a tiny bit. And it was like all of the places he touched Simon were throbbing, his hand where it was under Bram’s, and his lip, and Simon arched up to try to relieve some of the—pressure—but he couldn’t really move, and then he was coming.

It happened so fast that it took him a second to even realize that it was happening. It was like he’d been chasing something, tasting flashes of it every time Bram leaned into him again, and then without warning he’d caught it and felt all of it at the same time and his hips were jerking up again and again, of their own volition, and his face felt hot but he was shaking like he was shivering hard.

Bram hadn’t noticed, probably, because he was still kissing Simon, moving into his body in a way that was so good Simon thought maybe he could just ignore what had just happened and keep doing this—maybe forever—but even through the haze of pleasure he could feel the hot wet spread of come in his underwear, sliding around every time he shifted to lean in to Bram. Thinking about it made a wave of embarrassment crash down over him, and just like that the spell of whatever the fuck Bram had been doing to him was broken, and he was backing up on the couch, scrambling away. All he could think was that he had to get to the bathroom before Bram knew what a freak he was, _god_ , they hadn’t even been _doing_ anything—

“Simon?” said Bram, confused.

“I’m fine,” Simon said quickly, “just gotta—gotta pee, nature calls—”

“Oh yeah,” said Bram, “sorry, man,” but he looked at Simon as he stood up, running his eyes over Simon’s body like he did sometimes. Usually it made Simon feel like he was up on top of that ferris wheel again, but this time he followed Bram’s eyes and realized too late, realized just as Bram did, that there was a wet spot right over his crotch, come soaking through the fabric of his light wash jeans.

“Oh god,” said Bram, sounding strangled. “Is that— did you—”

“I’m really sorry,” said Simon, miserably. There was no point in escaping, now. He let himself fall back onto the couch. Maybe he’d fall through a portal in time and space and cease to exist.

“No,” said Bram, sounding distracted. “Don’t, uh. Don’t apologize.”

“I’m a freak,” said Simon. “Look, let me just—I’ll go change, and then we’ll never discuss this again. I’m really good at not talking about stuff. See: me and my sexuality, age thirteen through seventeen. I’m an expert at repression, okay?”

“No,” said Bram again. “Don’t. Don’t. Uh.” He sounded kind of broken, like Simon had broken his own boyfriend by coming in his pants just from _kissing_ him, when they hadn’t even moved on to handjobs yet, god.

“Oh god,” said Simon, realizing suddenly. “Did I—look, I’m really really sorry I didn’t, uh, ask. If this was okay. I really would have, I was going to ask you about all of this stuff, but I was too—I didn’t. And then I did this—” he gestured at himself, miserably.

“Anyway, I didn’t know I was, uh, gonna. I’m sorry, I should have asked. I just, um, I couldn’t.”

Bram didn’t say anything.

“God, okay, I’m going to go change, I’m sorry, you should probably go,” said Simon. Fuck, he was going to cry. He was definitely going to cry. He got up off the couch.

Bram reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t,” Bram said, for the third time. “Don’t, uh, change—I mean— _fuck_.”

“I kind of need to change,” said Simon.

“Right,” said Bram. “Sure, right. Yeah. Look. Can I—can I—”

He cut himself off, and suddenly Simon realized through his own haze of misery that Bram was so nervous he’d gone bright red. He was scrunching his hands through his hair, over and over again.

“CanIcomewithyou,” asked Bram in a rush, and then stared determinedly at a throw pillow.

“To, uh,” said Simon. He couldn’t really think too hard about what was happening. The last three minutes were like being way too drunk had been, like everything was spinning really hard and he might throw up if he thought too hard about it.

“Can I,” said Bram, as though he were forcing every word out, one at a time. He still wasn’t looking at Simon.

“Can I. Come. I want to,” he tried again, “I want to see—”

“You want to see my room? It's not, like, the ideal time, but in the abstract, yes," Simon said, faintly. He felt like he'd lost the thread of what was happening, somehow.

“ _Fuck_ ,” said Bram, to himself. He looked at Simon, finally, instead of at the throw pillow.

“You came in your pants?”

“Yeah,” said Simon. “I kind of want to die, now, though, so—”

“That’s so fucking hot,” said Bram.

“I’m sorry,” said Simon. “What?”

“That’s so fucking hot I might die,” said Bram. “I might literally, fucking, _die_ , Jesus. Simon—please—I want to see it—”

Something was happening but everything was spinning harder now, and Simon couldn’t really figure it out.

“You can see,” he said, gesturing at his gross crotch stain.

“It’s okay if, like, you aren’t ready. I really get it,” said Bram. “No pressure, I promise, but, Simon—I want to see where you, where you. Uh. Can I,”

“Can I—” he was asking again, reaching, now, for Simon’s jeans, for the button. Bram stopped there, his long fingers almost touching, and looked at Simon.

“Yes,” said Simon, because he wanted to know what would happen next. “Yeah, you, uh—sure—yes.”

“Fuck,” said Bram, “god,” and he was unbuttoning Simon’s jeans. Simon hadn’t thought that the first time a guy saw his dick would be _after_ he’d just come, but he wasn’t really going to complain, not with the reality of Bram’s hands unfolding in front of him.

Bram tugged his zipper down, and the stain on Simon’s boxers was even worse, but when he saw it Bram let out another strangled noise, like he’d been punched.

Then his fingers were on Simon’s dick, over the wet spot in his boxers. The come was cooling now, getting stickier and grosser, and Bram was touching him, rubbing him, rubbing it _into_ him, and it was so gross and Simon was getting hard again, already.

“Please,” said Bram, “can I,” and he reached for Simon’s waistband.

Bram looked at him, right at him, and his eyes were big and he was flushed and his lips were all puffy from where they’d been kissing, and he looked terrified and like he wanted to devour Simon, all at the same time. Simon could relate.

“Yeah,” he said, and then Bram was pulling his boxers down and Simon’s dick was slipping out, hard all the way again even though he was still wet with come that hadn’t even had time to dry yet. And Bram’s hand was on him and he was going to come again, on the fucking living room couch, oh god.

“Are you,” asked Bram, and Simon could only nod, and Bram was touching him while he came all over himself, Bram’s fingers moving even after he’d stopped, spreading the come all over his dick, again and again, like he couldn’t stop touching.

It was too much but Simon didn’t want it to stop, not even when Bram’s fingers made him feel like he was going to shake out of his body. He didn’t know what had just happened.

“You’re a mess,” said Bram, but he didn’t say it like he was laughing at Simon. He said it like it was—like it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Like Simon was some kind of porn.

“I still need to change,” said Simon, and when Bram tried to keep his face from falling Simon could see it.

“Don’t worry,” Bram said, “I gotta go anyways, my mom—”

“It’s only four,” said Simon, still trying to get his jeans buttoned.

“I’m sorry,” said Bram. “I’m sorry—I’ll see you—”

“Okay,” said Simon, and then Bram kissed him, just quickly. Simon could feel him shaking, a little bit. Then he was out the door.

“Okay,” Simon said again, and let himself fall back onto the couch. Fuck.

He lay there, not thinking, eating an entire plate of cold and soggy Bagel Bites and watching two more SVU episodes—a woman who was stealing other people’s children so that she could start a cult, and a politician who belonging to an online community of men who thought that bestiality should be legalized—before he realized that his parents would be home any second, and he still hadn’t changed.

He had to take a shower too, because there was come absolutely everywhere. Bram had kept pushing it around, rubbing it into him, even into his _pubes_ , and he was sticky and gross and when he thought about Bram’s fingers moving through it he had to jerk off again, hard and fast, in the shower.

“Did you have a good afternoon, honey?” his mom asked when she came home, and Simon nodded.

“Watched some tv,” he said.

In his room, he picked up his phone and started a text to Leah, deleted it. Started another one. Bram hadn’t texted him.

He texted Nick.

_Wanna take a walk_

_> >Sure dude meet you in 5_, his phone pinged back.

Pulling on his hoodie, Simon saw it again—the way Bram had looked at him, like he couldn’t believe what was happening, like it was too much to take in. Simon was used to feeling that way about Bram. Like he was something precious, like it was too good to be true and it might all turn out to be a dream, like he might wake up to a life of looking sadly out the window at the neighbor’s lawn guy and keeping a huge and lonely secret.

He looked at his phone again. No new messages.

Nick was waiting at their corner with two ice cream sandwiches.

“My dad did the shopping this week,” he said, handing one to Simon. “What’s up?”

The sandwich was cold and sweet, and the outside part got stuck in Simon’s teeth. He finished the whole thing, then licked the wrapper.

“Love your dad’s sweet tooth, man,” he said.

“Don’t avoid,” said Nick.

“Okay,” said Simon, “fine. Do you and Abby—is she into anything, like. Weird?”

“You asked me to go on a walk so that we could talk about private sexual things between me and my girlfriend?” asked Nick.

“Shit,” said Simon. “I’m sorry. I just—okay, do you guys, like, talk about stuff?”

“Sex?” asked Nick. “Yeah, I mean. Abby’s definitely, uh. Good at talking about stuff. Good at _communicating_ , you know?”

Simon remembered pulling the car over, the pause before he’d said it for the first time. Knowing that it was going to be okay, because it was Abby.

“Yeah, I know,” he said.

“Is this about Bram?” Nick asked.

“No, it’s about my other boyfriend,” said Simon. “Yeah, man, it’s about Bram. I just—no offense, but I kinda wish I had a gay friend sometimes. To talk about stuff.”

“I would be kind of offended if you left me for Ethan.”

“Ugh,” said Simon. “No, just—I don’t really know what’s, like, teenage sex stuff, and what’s gay stuff?”

“Dude, are you and Bram gonna have sex?” asked Nick. He sounded kind of nervous.

“It’s just that Abby and I haven’t really, not yet—I mean not all the way. We’ve, like, talked about it. She wants to wait. Which is totally cool, of course, I just—I guess with two guys that must be way easier. I never thought about it before.”

“What the fuck, dude, it’s not _easier_ ,” said Simon. “You sound like my parents. I swear they legit think that we are just two hormone monsters with literally nothing stopping us except their vigilance.” He sighed.

“I don’t know. We kind of—hooked up, this afternoon. I guess. I don’t—I just wanted to know, like, if Abby was ever into something that you didn’t, like. See coming.”

Nick shrugged. “I’m not gonna ask for details,” he said.

“Good,” said Simon. He looked down at the pavement, at where the cut blades of grass from perfectly-manicured lawns were piled, drying on the asphalt.

“I guess, just, sex is fucking weird and all of it is weird if you stop to think about it,” said Nick, “which is why I don’t try to, like, dwell—it’s very bizarre that we want to, like, insert our bodies into other peoples’ bodies. Once I read this thing online that was like, sex from the perspective of aliens, and it was like, ‘they want to put their food holes onto other food holes.’ You know?”

“Yeah,” said Simon, thinking. It was true. Sex was kind of bizarre no matter how you thought about it, and maybe what had happened with Bram wasn’t really that much weirder than wanting to put your tongue in someone’s mouth.

“I mean, Abby always says that as long as you’re both _consenting_ ,” said Nick, making air quotes with his voice, “and like, enthusiastically—or whatever—then you’re good.”

“Enthusiastically,” said Simon. “Huh.”

He’d been pretty enthusiastic by the end, he guessed. He’d been pretty enthusiastic about seeing Bram’s hands get all covered while he was coming, and feeling them touching him, and how into it Bram had been—that had been the best part. He wanted that look back on Bram’s face. It didn’t really matter to him how it got there, and this afternoon had been, overall, great. He’d do it again. Enthusiastically.

“Crisis averted?” asked Nick.

“Yeah,” said Simon, a little distracted. He kind of had to stop thinking about this afternoon, at least while he was here, with Nick, in public.

“Very averted. Thank your dad for the sandwiches okay? I’m sure you’ll, you know, have sex with Abby soon, you’re an excellent communicator, she’s definitely gotta be into it.”

“Dude,” said Nick, and grinned at him.

The problem now was that Bram still hadn’t texted him. Sometimes, when Bram didn’t text for a long time, Simon couldn’t help it—he started to think about Blue deleted his gmail account, exactly when he’d needed him most. He didn’t think Bram would just leave him like that, without giving him a chance to say anything, but it freaked him out anyway.

He looked at his phone again, then threw it—gently—across the room. Then he went and got it.

“Don’t be a chickenshit,” he said, out loud, then typed _hey_ and sent it quickly, before he could second-guess.

He was about to throw his phone across the room again, just so he could stop looking at the screen and waiting, when it lit up.  
_  
>>Hey you_

The little typing bubble popped up, so Simon waited.  
_  
>>Sorry i left so fast/weirdly_

 _It’s okay_ , Simon typed. _I ate all the bagel bites tho_

_> >Hahaha they were gross by then! _

_Bagel bites cannot, by definition, be gross_

_> >FAlse, man  
>>Anyway to be really honest i freaked out a little_

Simon held his breath. He started to type, then stopped.  
_  
>>I wasn’t really thinking and i feel like i was really weird, you’re probably really weirded out, i’m sorry_

 _No_ , Simon typed. He felt like his fingers weren’t working fast enough.

_I wasn’t weirded out._

He took a deep breath.

 _It was kind of hot actually_  
_Lol sorry if that’s weird_  
_We can both be weird?_  
_Wow when you type the word weird a lot it stops looking like a word_

“The fuck, man,” he said, out loud. His phone buzzed again.  
  
_> >Okay new word then._  
_ >>It was really hot_  
_ >>I’m like really relieved_  
_ >>Can we do it again some time maybe_  
_ >>I mean if you want_  
  
Simon’s whole body felt flushed. His hands were getting sweaty, even. He had to grip his phone tighter in order to text Bram back.

_Yeah  
I mean what part do you want to do again_

He waited, but Bram wasn’t typing.

_I liked all of it just fyi like for the record_

_> >I liked all of it too_

Bram started typing, Simon could see, and then he deleted everything. He started again, then the bubble disappeared again. It kept popping up and then vanishing again like one of those whack-a-mole games.

 _Did you like when i came in my pants or was i imagining that because im perverted_ , he typed, to spare Bram.  
  
_> >Oh man_  
_> >Yeah_  
_ >>I liked it a lot you weren’t imagining it_  
_ >>I liked that you let me see it and i liked watching you come all over yourself again_

 _> >Please don’t break up with me_  
  
Simon really wished Bram was in his room so that he could kiss him. He wanted to be able to look at Bram and make sure he knew Simon was into this too.  
  
_Are you joking i’m never breaking up with you_  
_I had to jerk off again after you left because it was so hot_  
_Sorry if that’s tmi_

_> >What do you think I did as soon as i got home_

_What you do think i’m about to have to do right now_ , Simon typed. He felt like his hands were working independently of his brain, or something. He was really hard, and every time Bram texted him he got harder, and he wasn’t joking, he really was going to have to jerk off again in like three seconds.  
  
_> >oh fuck_  
_ >>i wanna say some stuff but i am gonna restrain myself_  
_ >>me too though_  
  
Don’t restrain yourself, Simon wanted to say, but he wanted—if Bram was going to say something, he wanted to be there when Bram said it.  
  
_Say it to me later okay_  
_In person_  
_Im serious_

_> >fuck okay_

_Haha okay shit so what do we do now_

_> >I wasn’t kidding i have to_  
_ >>you know_  
_ >>I can’t wait to see you tomorrow_

 _Me too_ , Simon typed, and then he threw his phone across the room a third time, before he said something even more embarrassing that what he’d texted Bram so far.

He was so hard it was kind of crazy, like texting Bram had turned him on more than most porn ever did. He wanted to make it last, when he knew it was going to be as good as this, but he could barely stop himself—he slid his hand down and felt a wet spot where he’d precum, where it had soaked into his sleep pants, and that made him think about Bram looking hungrily at his boxers on the couch. What if Bram had—what if Bram had leaned down and _licked_ him, is that something he would want? Was he into—into that—and then Simon was picturing it, Bram sucking on him through his messed up boxers, not even a real blow job, but it was better than anything he’d imagined before and Simon was coming so hard he had to bite down on his other arm to stop himself from making noise.

He was shaking, afterwards, and his last thought before he fell asleep hard was _fuck._

He had to jerk off again in the shower the next morning, which turned out to be a good decision because as soon as he saw Bram coming towards his car his dick went into a really inconvenient state of red alert. If he hadn’t just come he’d have a boner in the car with all his friends at 8 am.

“Hi,” said Bram, and leaned in to kiss him just like always. Maybe Simon was imagining it, but it felt like Bram kissed him maybe a little bit harder than usual. Like he was kind of—thinking about it.

In the back seat, Nick coughed loudly and started talking about his National History Day project.

“I’m doing it about the history of National History Day,” he said at double his normal volume. “It’s so meta, I feel like they’ll have to give me an A, you know?”

“I don’t think “meta” is part of the grading rubric,” said Bram, laughing. Simon took a second to look at him, at the way he threw his head back when he laughed like that. Sometimes it felt like Bram was this sparkling thing.

 _Sometimes you sounds like an idiot_ , Simon told himself, but he was smiling as he pulled the car out onto the street.

School passed in a blur, the only clear moments coming during English class and lunch, when everything narrowed in on Bram and slowed down. Simon watching him playing with his pencil, flipping it back and forth through his fingers.

“Mr. Spier, I am waiting to hear what the symbolic significance of the conch shell is in this chapter,” he heard, as if from a distance.

“Oh,” he said, blinking. “Yeah, it’s—well. I don’t know?”

That got a laugh at his expense, but it also got him Bram’s smile. Simon smiled, too, because he got to see that smile all the time, now. He used to have to wait to get it—a few times a week in class, or when Leah said something funny at lunch—and he hadn’t realized, then, how much he liked it. How good it was.

“You have my favorite smile,” he told Bram by his car after school, because he’d been thinking about it all day.

“What?” said Bram, but in a really happy voice. “That’s so weird, dude.”

“I thought we were done with that word,” said Simon, and then he was thinking about their texts, from last night, and he could tell Bram was too, because he swallowed and his eyes got, like, _heavy_.

“Is your mom working late again?” asked Bram, kind of shyly, like he didn’t want Simon to think about what he was really asking.

“No,” said Simon. Shit. This hadn’t occurred to him.

“My mom’s going away next Friday,” said Bram, “but, like. That’s not for a while. I kind of wanted to—”

“Me too,” said Simon, quickly.

“Uh, your car?” said Bram. “I mean, unless that’s—”

“Don’t say the word,” said Simon. “Anyway, it’s not, you’re a genius—a really hot genius, have I ever told you that?”

“You can tell me whatever you want,” said Bram, hungrily, and he leaned in to kiss Simon, hard. It felt like the way he’d almost kissed him this morning. He was pressing Simon up against the car, boxing him in, and Simon wanted—he wanted—

“GET A FUCKING ROOM,” someone shouted good-naturedly from across the parking lot, and Bram pulled back, blushing.

“That parking lot over by the movie theater?” asked Simon. “They’re closed Thursdays, I think.”

The drive there was a little bit dangerous, because Simon was finding it really, really hard to concentrate on the road when Bram was right next to him and kept putting his hand on Simon’s thigh and then taking it away again, like he couldn’t decide. But it just made Simon think about his fingers, and the last time he’d seen Bram’s fingers against his skin, and then they were there, thank god.

“I don’t really know how this works,” murmured Bran, leaning over across the emergency brake. Simon popped his seat belt open so he could maneuver better.

“It looks really easy in movies,” he said, and Bram was fumbling with something next to his seat. The seat fell back, suddenly, reclining almost all the way, and then he was crawling over Simon, fitting himself somehow around the steering wheel.

“Oh,” said Simon, looking up at Bram. Bram smiled. And then Bram was kissing him, but he didn’t go for Simon’s lips right away. He was kissing Simon on the jaw, on the neck, and Simon kept trying to open up for him, arching his head back so Bram could have more of him. They’d just started and he felt crazy already, wanting so badly. Every time Bram dragged his lips across his skin Simon shivered, a full-body thing, and then Bram moved to his lips, finally, and Simon’s hips were coming up and up, seeking some kind of friction, but Bram’s body was too far away—

“Wow,” said Bram, “You’re really—you really like this.”

“Sorry,” said Simon. He didn’t know what it was, why Bram above him was making him like this all of a sudden.

“No,” said Bram, “Don’t apologize, god, it’s _extremely_ hot, I want you to—I want to make you come, again, tell me what to do—” and he pulled back, like he was waiting for Simon to decide.

“Don’t,” said Simon, suddenly desperate, “don’t go—I like it when you, uh. When you’re touching me like that, with your whole body, on—on me.” He was a freak, he was, he got it, it was just that it was so _good_ that he couldn’t pretend like it wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

“Oh,” said Bram, thinking. He smiled again, but really slowly, kind of like he was being careful. “You like when I’m on you?”

Simon nodded. He didn’t think he could say anything.

“You like when I’m on you and you can’t move that much?” asked Bram. He shifted so he was sitting on Simon, his hips pinning Simon’s down.

Simon nodded again, frantically.

“I thought maybe you liked it yesterday, when I was holding your hand down—but I wasn’t sure,” said Bram, “what do you think?”

He slid his hands down to tangle with Simon’s where they’d gone limp next to him. Bram squeezed a little, like he was checking in, and when Simon squeezed back Bram brought their tangled hands up above Simon’s head so they were against the top of the headrest and he pressed them there, holding them down.

“Do you like this?” he asked, carefully, and Simon nodded and shivered and tried to—he couldn’t talk, it was so good, and Bram was over him, holding him there, leaning down to kiss him. He didn’t kiss Simon on the mouth, though. Instead, he leaned in and kissed him once on each cheek, and then in the center of his forehead, and only then did he let Simon taste him, that warm gorgeous mouth, and Simon couldn’t go anywhere, he could only wait, and take it, and come so hard that he had to break away to gasp for air.

“Oh god,” said Simon, “oh my god, oh my god.” He still couldn’t really breathe. Above him, Bram was staring, wide-eyed.

“Holy shit,” he said, and Simon closed his eyes in embarrassment.

“I don’t know what that was,” he said, “I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t apologize,” said Bram, and Simon opened his eyes again. Bram looked drunk, almost, flushed and hazy.

“Just, don’t apologize, can I just—what we talked about,” he said. Their hands were still tangled together.

“Yeah,” said Simon. “Yeah, are you gonna—touch me again—”

“I want to see,” said Bram, “but shit, there’s no room in this car—I was gonna ask, if I could go down on you, after, that’s what I didn’t say last night, I want to suck you off after you come, god.”

“Oh fuck,” said Simon.

“There’s no _room_ ,” said Bram, frustrated. “Maybe the back seat? Can we?”

They could, just barely. There was an ungainly scramble over the seats, and then Simon was sitting half-upright, crushed against the back rear window, and Bram was half-kneeling in the footwell, one knee up on the seat, and his long fingers were shaking as he tried to get Simon’s jeans open. He seemed so desperate.

“I’m gonna need to start bringing an extra pair of pants with me when we hang out,” Simon said, trying to make Bram laugh, but instead it made Bram groan out loud.

“Yeah,” he said, “you’re gonna keep getting—messed up like this—fuck—”

Simon thought about how Bram had figured out what he liked, something he liked so much, even though he hadn’t known he liked it. How he’d asked Simon if it was okay and then he’d given him exactly what he wanted, slowly, like he was helping Simon figure it out.

“You like that I came all over myself,” Simon half-asked, trying it out. He could feel himself blushing. He knew he sounded ridiculous, like bad porn. But Bram made a strangled noise when he said it, and his fingers shook even harder.

Bram had his jeans open, finally, and he was just staring at Simon’s boxers, his half-limp dick still inside them.

“You’re so wet,” said Bram, softly. “I want—”

“I thought about this, last night,” Simon admitted. “I thought about you—cleaning me up. Because I’m such a mess.”

“Oh _god_ ,” said Bram. It sounded like he was in pain. His hand was clenching in the Subaru’s seat cushion, tightening and releasing.

“Will you?” asked Simon.

“You really—you want—” asked Bram.

“Please,” said Simon.

Slowly, Bram started to peel Simon’s boxers down—then faster, like he couldn’t stop himself. Simon still wasn’t hard all the way again, but it seemed like that didn’t matter to Bram. There was come all over his soft dick and his balls, all over his inner thighs.

“You’re such a mess,” Bram said, like it was the best thing he’d ever seen.

“I can’t go home like this,” said Simon. “Come on, you have to help clean me up.” He felt _insane_. There was no way this was still reality. He’d fallen through a wormhole into some kind of alternate porn universe, or something.

And then Bram’s mouth was on him, and Simon decided he’d spend the rest of his life in the porn universe, because it was fucking amazing, it was the best universe in the world. Bram’s mouth was soft and careful, and he was—he was licking Simon’s come up, sucking it off of him gently, and Simon could tell how hot it was getting him. Bram’s hips were moving in little jerks, like he didn’t even realize it was happening, and he was making this groaning noise that didn’t stop.

It was getting Simon hard again, too, all of it. Bram didn’t stop cleaning him up, though, didn’t stop licking at his balls, and the crease of his thigh. His mouth wasn’t even on Simon’s dick and Simon was about to come again.

“You taste so good,” said Bram, “God, I thought about this—so much—I didn’t know it would taste so _good_ ,” and then he sucked at the base of Simon’s dick and Simon came everywhere, all over his stomach in a big puddle.

“Fuck,” said Bram. “God—I just got you clean—”

“Shit,” said Simon, “Sorry, sorry—”

“You’re the hottest person in the entire universe,” said Bram, “are you kidding me, please—I want to—” and then he stopped himself.

“What?” asked Simon. “You can say, come on.”

Bram covered his face with his hands. His ears still stuck out on either side, which just confirmed Simon’s suspicions that Bram could ask him for anything in the world and he’d say yes.

“I wanna come on you,” said Bram from behind his hands, and groaned.

“I’m sorry, I’m a freak, I’m a weirdo—I’m so weird—”

“No saying weird,” said Simon, on autopilot. His brain had shorted out a little bit. He’d still never seen Bram’s dick, even, and now it was all he could think about.

“Yeah,” he said, and as soon as he said it he needed it, right _now_. “Yes, Bram, fuck, I want to see you do it, I want to see it— show me, come on, please—”

“This fucking car,” said Bram, laughing, but it came out like a half-sob. He kind of wrenched himself up and Simon slouched and slid himself down and Bram was kneeling mostly over Simon, which was still a thing that Simon found incredibly hot, and it was just compounded by Bram fumbling his pants open and reaching in for his—

“Fuck, you’re really big,” said Simon without thinking, because it was true.

“Can I really,” asked Bram, checking again, as though Simon hadn’t said yes all the ways he knew how already. He was so hard, it looked like it must hurt.

“I wanna feel—” said Simon, and reached out, and Bram was hot, like really literally _hot_ , under his fingers, smooth skin and hot blood.

“Come on me,” said Simon, because he thought Bram would want to hear it. “I’m already a mess, it doesn’t matter, you might as well—”

“God,” said Bram, wrapping his fingers around Simon’s so that they were jerking him off together, “gonna get it all over you—” and then he was, his come splashing warm and slick against Simon’s belly, streaks of it over his dick, his thighs, his jeans where they were all bunched up around him.

He came for so long, longer than Simon ever had. It was so hot he thought he might die, or at least get hard again, which might effectively be the same thing.

The only problem was that Bram was apologizing now. He sounded—scared, a little bit.

“Hey,” said Simon. “Bram, come on. Look at me.”

Bram looked at him.

“That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened in my life,” said Simon. “I mean it.”

“Oh,” said Bram. “But—why? I didn’t think anyone else would—”

“I don’t know,” said Simon, shrugging. “Because you liked it so much, I guess. Because I like when I make you hot. Because I like when you’re, uh. Kind of, making me do stuff? Like get messy? Because you want it? Oh, god. Now I’m the freak.”

But all the tension had gone out of Bram, and he was smiling tentatively.

“It’s so hot,” he said, and smiled a little more. Simon was so fucking thirsty for that smile. He was a thirst monster.

“I’m really a mess,” Simon said, just to see what would happen.

“Yeah,” Bram said, voice getting thicker. He moved his hands down towards Simon’s belly, tentatively.

“Can you,” said Simon. “I mean, it’s okay, if you want to touch—”

“Yeah,” said Bram again, even thicker, and he was dragging his fingers through the come—both of their come, all over Simon.

“It’s dripping everywhere,” said Simon, and Bram kissed him suddenly, fiercely.

“I can feel it dripping down my ass,” said Simon when Bram pulled back, because he was a thirst monster trapped in an alternate porn universe, and nothing was real except what had happened to Bram’s face when he said that.

“Can I be the biggest freak in the entire world?” asked Bram. “What I’m about to say next, I mean.”

“I mean, the results are good so far,” said Simon, “so go ahead. You have my freak blessing.”

“Will you, uh. Not clean it up,” asked Bram. He looked stricken. “God, am I high? Did I just say that to you?”

“Um,” said Simon, “I think I’m a bigger freak than you.”

“I just asked you not to clean up and you’re covered in come,” said Bram. “Because it fucking—turns me on. When you’re all messy—oh god. And I want to, uh. I want to think about you going home like that, with it drying on you, fuck fuck fuck. I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“No,” said Simon. Alternate porn universe, he thought. Everything goes. “I’m a bigger freak because I want to do it, just because you asked me too—except that maybe you could, god. Tell me? To do it?”

“You want me to tell you to not clean up.”

“Yeah,” said Simon. He wanted to die, but he also wanted to live in this, the hottest moment of his entire life, for a million years.

“Don’t clean up,” said Bram, and kissed him. “Go home like this.”

“Yeah,” said Simon, “Okay, yes,” and they were kissing desperately. Simon felt like he was trying to kiss everything he didn’t know how to say into Bram’s lips, like he could communicate with him telepathically just by the slide of his tongue against Bram’s.

Bram pulled back, breathing hard, and grinned.

“Freak,” he said.

“Yeah,” said Simon. “Hey, I really like it when you smile.”

 

It wasn’t even that weird, it turned out. Yeah, Simon went home without cleaning up, and he could feel the come, his and Bram’s, drying on his skin, making him sticky and uncomfortable, a constant back-of-the-mind reminder of what they’d done. But when Bram texted him that night, it wasn’t even about that, it was just a funny story about how his mom had messed up dinner.

 _> >Legit she used icing instead of mayo in the chicken salad_  
_ >>It was the most impressively disgusting thing_  
_ >>The containers don’t even LOOK the same_

 _Oh god_ , texted Simon.  
_I hope you realized before you started eating???_

 _> >Thank god she had the first bite_  
_ >>She actually spit it across the room_  
_ >>You know how much trouble I’d get in for spitting out her food? Icing or no icing i would have been legit grounded_

_I gotta tell Nora she’ll die_

_> >Yeah definitely an all time cooking disaster_  
_ >>Hey by the way_  
_ >>I keep thinking about what you said_

Simon had definitely said a lot of things that afternoon, trapped as he was in an alternate porn dimension. It was kind of humiliating to think about. He also still needed to take a shower.

_Hahahah shittt  
I said a lot of stuff_

_> >We both did lmao_  
_ >>I meant what you said about liking my smile though_  
_ >>Is that dumb_

_It’s a little sappy but i said it so i’ll take the blame  
Anyway it’s true_

_> >I like the way you look when you’re thinking  
>>I’m always staring at you in English class_

Simon grinned down at his phone.

_No way im always doing that  
Almost got busted for cheating that time that i was still wondering if you were blue _

_> >;)  
>>how was your night etc_

Simon took a deep breath, then just went ahead with it.

_Kind of… messy_

_> >Shit_  
_ >>Still kind of feel like a freak about that_  
_ >>But uh_  
_ >>That’s really hot_

_Are we gonna have to ban freak too?  
Anyway yeah i still haven’t showered_

_> >holy shit_  
_ >>I wish I could like_  
_ >>take a shower with you_  
_ >>and wash you_  
_ >>Like I want to give you a BATH_  
_ >>I don’t think we can ban the word freak dude sorry it’s way too relevant to my life rn_

It was possible that the only thing Simon was going to be able to think about for the rest of his life was sex, which was fine and normal and probably wouldn’t affect his grades at all.

 _Um you keep saying things that i didn’t know i wanted and then it’s like all i can think about_  
_We can both be freaks about this i’m cool with it if you’re cool with it_  
_Isn’t your mom going away next friday_

_> >Yeah i was gonna have a party_

_Don’t have a party  
just … have me_

Simon breathed out hard and tried to resist the urge to throw his phone. He was an idiot, and also this was all he wanted. Before he could work himself up about it more he texted Leah, _think i just invited myself over for a sleepover at Brams…_

Two notifications popped up, one right after the other.  
  
_> >Wow. I’d love that but are you really okay with it_  
_ >>I mean… idk what i’m saying. Or what you’d be okay with. I’m not trying to like imply anything._

 _Im okay with anything_  
_I think i mean_  
_If we’re both talking about what i think we are_

 _> >I obviously want to have sex with you_  
_> >It seems like so normal and not weird compared to all the freak things i want_  
_ >>Although I’m sure I’ll end up being a freak about that too_  
_ >>You know, if we ever_

Leah had texted him back, _wow okay we are gonna talk about this tomorrow. I support you!_

Simon flipped back to the conversation with Bram.

 _I mean we can play it by ear but everything has been really good just fyi_  
_So far_  
_Although i do need to shower_

 _> >Oh wow yeah_  
_> >Wow I really can’t believe you didn’t yet_  
_ >>That’s so good???_  
_ >>Jesus put me in jai_l

_Okay now i need to also jerk off in the shower_

_> >I’ll admit I’m going picture that happening while I, uh, do my own thing_

_Fyi you make me feel kinda crazy  
In a good way_

“And I’m officially gone,” said Simon. “I’m a freak who is pathically gone.”

From the other side of the wall, Nora yelled, “Stop being a weirdo who talks to yourself out loud!”

“Stop listening!” shouted Simon, and went to take a shower.

 

Leah tracked him down after school the next day.

“No boyfriend today,” she said. “We’re going to Waffle House on a personal Simon-and-Leah date, because I have been missing you and I’ve been amazing about not complaining.”

“You are always amazing,” said Simon, and kissed her on the top of the head. “I don’t deserve you.”

He’d felt so good all day, thrilled and excited and little bit dangerous. And now here was Leah, who was comfort and safety and one of the very best things in his life. He was pathetically lucky.

“I won’t fight you on that,” said Leah. “Come on, you can treat.”

Lyle was working that afternoon, and it was still always a tiny bit embarrassing to see him. It brought it all back, the desperation to find someone, anyone, who could share this with him. He hadn’t even _wanted_ it to be Lyle, not when he stepped back and thought about it. He had just wanted someone. Once, a few weeks ago, he’d had a nightmare that Blue was someone else and he still didn’t know that Bram was gay, and he was dating someone who didn’t even matter.

Lyle smiled at him, though. Everyone had been pretty nice to him since the ferris wheel, which made Simon feel a little bit weird but not so weird that he couldn’t be relieved about it.

“So,” said Leah, when Lyle had deposited their waffles and left. “Sleepover?”

“Uh,” said Simon. “Yeah. I think.”

“Does this mean what all teen romcoms have led me to believe it has to mean?”

“I think we might,” said Simon. “I don’t know. Things have been moving—fast. But in a good way.”

“As long as it’s good,” said Leah. She sipped water through her straw, looking at him kindly.

“It’s very good,” said Simon, “not to get graphic about it. I guess it’s just like, I’m worried I want it too much?”

“Well, that’s minorly graphic,” said Leah, “but I’ll let it go. You’re a teenager, dude. I think that’s how you’re supposed to feel.”

“It’s distracting,” said Simon.

“Wait,” said Leah. “Are you telling me that, like, always thinking about sex is new for you? I mean, I think about sex a _lot_. I think it’s distracting for everyone, babe. And now you have, like, a realistic target for your fantasies.”

Simon shoveled some waffle into his mouth and thought about it.

“Hang on,” said Leah. “Hear me out, don’t, like—I apologize in advance if this is offensive. But do you think that maybe, when you were closeted, you couldn’t let yourself think about it too much?”

“I mean, I definitely thought about sex,” said Simon. “That was sort of the problem.”

“Right, of course,” said Leah. “But I mean, like, you were really hiding and trying not to let it define you or be this huge thing. Did you, like, maybe not let yourself think about it as much as you could have because it seemed out of reach?”

“I don’t know,” said Simon. “I mean, I fantasized about, like, the neighbor’s _lawn_ guy. But yeah, now that I think about it, I guess I mostly fantasized about him, like, being into me. Talking to me. Maybe kissing him. It wasn’t—super sexual.”

“I stand by my theory, then,” said Leah, triumphantly.

“So is the copay for this appointment still twenty-five bucks?” asked Simon.

“What’s a copay?” said Leah.

“It was supposed to be a therapy joke,” said Simon. “It’s a health insurance thing.”

“You are an enormous nerd, Simon Spier,” said Leah, and he threw a piece of pancake at her happily.

 

On Sunday, Simon woke up to an empty house and a note on the kitchen island.

_Nora’s soccer tournament—we’ll be back at three. Please do your homework, we only get to bug you about this for a few more months so we’re making the most of it! Love you, Mom and Dad._

“Oh, shit,” he said out loud, and looked at the clock. It was 11 am.

 _Free house until 3_ , he sent, then tried to eat some leftover—crepes, maybe? Very flat pancakes. They were pretty good.

His phone buzzed.

  
_> >Wow that sounds a lot better than my plans for the day_  
_ >>Which were science homework fyi_

_I don’t know what you’re talking about i’m just inviting you to come study  
For the math test_

_> >Oh, of course_  
_ >>Very important test_  
_ >>Be there in 20_

For the next twenty minutes, Simon acted out an embarrassing montage of trying on clothes, rejecting clothes, shoving a pile of clothes into his closet, flopping down on available surfaces, and looking at the clock. He didn’t even know what he was wearing by the time Bram showed up.

It must have been okay, though, because Bram gave him one of those up-and-down looks that made Simon so crazy.

“Hey,” said Bram.

“Hi,” said Simon. Just go for it, he thought.

“Wanna, uh, hang out in my room?” he asked, like an idiot.

“Yeah,” said Bram, with a super-slow smile.

“This room is fucking awesome,” said Bram, when they got there.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been in here before,” said Simon.

“Yeah, your parents have been pretty vigilant, I guess,” said Bram. “I mean, this bed—it’s like a, an enclave. This is so cool.”

“Yeah, I guess,” said Simon, and kissed him.

It moved fast, this time, now that Bram knew more about—about what Simon liked. He let Simon touch him for a little while, standing there kissing, feeling Bram’s jaw and the small of his back, running his hands over him. _He’s real_ , Simon thought sometimes, and it made him shiver. _You didn’t imagine it_.

Then Bram caught both of Simon’s hands and wrapped his long fingers around his wrists, both of them together, trapped behind Simon’s back. Simon felt lightheaded.

“God,” he said.

“You’re so incredible,” said Bram. “Are you gonna come in your pants again?”

“I don’t know,” said Simon, trying to think. “I don’t—maybe—yeah, if you keep, uh.”

“Doing this?” asked Bram, and squeezed his wrists.

“Yeah,” said Simon, strangled.

“Hang on,” said Bram. “Take your pants off first, okay? You can, uh. You can leave your boxers on.”

“Oh god,” said Simon. He couldn’t think. Bram still had his hands, and he couldn’t reach—

“Oh,” said Bram, realizing. “Sorry.”

He let go, and Simon felt it like a small loss. He reached for his pants, trying to get them down as quickly as possible.

“Yeah, like that,” said Bram, as Simon stepped out of them.

“I got you,” he said, and gathered Simon’s wrists again. Simon breathed out, long and shaky.

“I got you,” Bram said again, and reached for Simon’s dick with his free hand. Simon looked down and saw Bram’s slender fingers on the front of his boxers, where his precum was making a tiny stain.

“Fuck, you’re gonna come, aren’t you?” asked Bram.

“Yeah,” said Simon, swallowing. It should have been so humiliating, that he was about to come after, like, two seconds of this. Bram liked it, though. Simon loved how much Bram liked it.

“You’re already messing them up,” said Bram, heavily. “Fuck.”

“I’m a mess,” said Simon, and it felt like a confession. “You’re gonna make me come everywhere if you keep touching me like that, Bram—”

“Yeah,” said Bram, hungrily, “Just like that, you can do it.”

He was barely touching Simon. It was so light, not really even friction, but it didn’t matter, Simon was jerking and coming anyway. Together, they watched the wet stain spread under Bram’s hand.

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” said Bram. He was still holding Simon’s wrists, and he seemed to realize it all of a sudden, letting go. Simon tried not to make a disappointed noise.

Bram was hard, he could tell. His dick looked huge in his jeans, and Simon wanted to see it again.

“Can I?” he asked, vaguely. He reached for Bram’s fly, like that would make things clearer.

“Yeah,” said Bram, sounding dazed.

“Yeah, yeah, anything you want—Simon. God, you’re so hot. You’re still, uh. Wearing them,” and Simon realized he meant the messed up boxers, dropped his hands from Bram’s fly to try to take them off.

“No,” said Bram. “Don’t.”

Simon froze.

“Uh, I mean, please, will you—leave them.”

“You can say don’t,” said Simon.

“Oh,” said Bram, faintly. “Right. Uh, don’t take them off. Um, leave them on.”

“God,” said Simon. “Yeah, okay. Fuck, they’re such a mess.”

“You’re such a mess,” said Bram, like he couldn’t believe he was saying it. “It’s so good.”

“I want to suck your dick,” said Simon, and it was like saying it made it the truest thing in the world. His mouth was watering, all of a sudden, like literally _watering_. There was something wrong with him.

“Are you serious?” said Bram.

“I really, really want to,” said Simon, trying to make Bram see how true it was. He decided to play every card he had.

“I really want to suck your dick while I’ll all covered in come,” he said. “Please?” The alternate porn universe howled into existence around him.

Bram blinked, then nodded frantically.

Simon unzipped his jeans, tugged them down. Bram’s dick was as good as he’d remembered. It felt so good in his hands, and he leaned in, and it tasted good too—clean and just a little bit salty, and it smelled like concentrated Bram. He tried to get as much of it as he could into his mouth, then had to pull off and cough. Bram didn’t seem to mind.

“I really like this,” said Simon, surprised—he’d known this was, like, part of being gay. He’d assumed it would be good, in a vague way. But this was—it was incredible. He wanted all of it. He felt greedy for it.

“God,” he said again, “it’s so good,” and then he couldn’t talk because his mouth was back on Bram, licking and swallowing and trying to get as much of it as he could into him, somehow, even though it was impossible.

“Fuck,” Bram was saying above him, over and over, a string of it, _fuckfuckfuckfuck_.

“I’m gonna come,” said Bram, “Simon—”

Simon wanted to swallow all of it, and tried, but then he was coughing, and some of it went down his throat but some of it ended up all over his chin, a streak of it. It wasn’t his most elegant moment.

“Sorry about that,” he said to Bram, sheepishly, but Bram was looking at him with that porn-come-to-life look again.

“Oh wow,” he said. “It’s on your _face_. I’m such a freak, Simon, I’m sorry, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen—can I please,” and then he was kissing Simon desperately, messily, licking at his chin and into his mouth. Bram’s hand came down to Simon’s dick, where he was hard again.

“Oh god,” said Bram, “I think I’m going to die. I might die.”

“Bed,” said Simon, “come on,” and they were falling over onto it, Bram still trying to jerk Simon off through his boxers, until he gave up and slid down and pulled them off and moaned, looking at Simon.

“You gonna clean me up again?” asked Simon, and Bram nodded hard, and then his mouth was on Simon again, his tongue licking up puddles of drying come.

“I’m gonna make you come again and again,” said Bram. “I love it, Simon.”

Simon looked down at him, at his red-flushed face and his gorgeous eyes.

“I’m really lucky,” he said, and then he came again.

Bram just slid his fingers through it, tracing patterns on Simon’s abs where his shirt was pulled up.

“I have a freak confession,” he said, “But I’m afraid to say it in case you don’t really want to do it but you say yes just because I asked.”

“Huh,” said Simon, trying to will his post-orgasm brain back online so that he could have this conversation.

“Well,” he tried. “I mean, I kind of told you that I like doing stuff because, uh, you want me to do it.”

“Yeah,” said Bram, “but that’s the problem. What if it’s something you don’t really want to do but I like—I fuck you up about it. I blur your lines.”

“That was a good song,” said Simon.

“Simon,” said Bram. “This is serious.”

“I’m sorry,” said Simon. “I just came twice. This is usually naptime. Look—everything I’ve done with you has been the hottest thing in the world. If there was something that didn’t immediately feel like the hottest idea in the world, I promise I would say so. Deal?”

“Yeah,” said Bram, tentatively. “I guess that works.”

“So tell me your freak thing,” said Simon, closing his eyes. “Whisper it in my ear.”

“Okay,” said Bram. Simon could feel him sliding closer, fitting his body around Simon’s. It felt like being covered with a blanket when you were half-asleep on the couch at Christmas, like going from comfortable to super-deluxe comfortable in the span of a few seconds.

“Comfortable,” he tried to say to Bram, but Bram was pulling the actual blanket up over them, and then he was asleep.

When he woke up he was in the middle of a nightmare, except that it was real. Specifically, the nightmare was his mother, standing in his doorway with her hands over her mouth, and Simon was naked under the blanket, and Bram was asleep next to him.

“Oh, god,” said Simon’s mother.

“Oh, fuck,” said Simon.

“Huh?” said Bram, sleepily. Simon really wished this nightmare weren’t happening in full force right now, because then he might have time to appreciate the way Bram blinked like a confused groundhog as he was waking up, and the way the pillow had made creases across his cheek. Instead, all he could think about was that hell involved fewer actual pillars of flame than he had been led to believe.

“I can explain,” said Simon, desperately, as though the explanation might be willed into existence if he said that forcefully enough.

“I doubt there’s that much to explain,” said his mom.

Bram was fully awake now, and looked like he wanted to cry.

“Look,” said his mom. “I’m going to go downstairs. In five minutes, Bram will come downstairs and say goodbye, and then we’ll discuss this further.”

“Okay,” said Bram, faintly. Simon’s mom closed the door.

“I’m so sorry—” Simon started to say, but Bram was shaking his head.

“My fault,” he said. “I, uh. Should have been the responsible one. You were so out of it. God.”

“Please don’t disappear,” Simon said suddenly, desperately. He thought maybe _he_ was about to cry. “It’ll be okay, I promise she’s not that mad, I promise she won’t tell your mom—”

“Whoa,” said Bram. “Hey. No one’s disappearing.”

“I thought,” said Simon. “You seem so upset.”

“I’m pretty embarrassed,” said Bram. “But, uh. I’m not leaving you that easily. I made that mistake once, and that was kind of enough.”

“Oh,” said Simon, faintly.

“FIVE MINUTES,” shouted Simon’s mom.

Bram pulled on his jeans. He started to open Simon’s door, then closed it again softly and turned around.

“I love you,” he said to Simon, and then he left.

“Oh,” said Simon again, out loud. He sat down on the bed.

Simon didn’t hear any of what his mother said to him. It was like words weren’t real things, except the words Bram had said, that kept echoing in his head, drowning everything else out.

He nodded at his mom, and took the humiliating box of condoms she handed him, and watched her mouth move.

“Am I grounded?” he asked, abruptly.

“Four days,” she said, or at least it looked like that was what her mouth said.

“Okay,” said Simon. “That’s fair.”

“That’s very mature of you, Simon,” his mother seemed to be saying. “It’s really about breaking a promise, not about sex.”

“Sure,” said Simon. She tousled his hair, and went to go make dinner.

Simon took out his phone and looked at it.

 _Bram said he loved me,_ he started to text to Leah, then he stopped. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her. It was more that he wanted to keep this just for himself, for a little while. He wanted to be a little bit greedy.

He lay on his bed and looked up and the ceiling and thought about Bram.

He thought about how Bram had found him when he needed it most, without even knowing that that’s what he was doing.

He thought about how he’d fallen in love with Blue and he could have been anyone, but he’d turned out to be the right person.

If Blue hadn’t been Bram—if he’d been Lyle, or Cal, or someone awful like Martin—what would Simon have done? Would he be dating Lyle or Cal right now? Would he be smiling at Bram in English class and kissing Cal in his car after school?

Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe the point was that everything had worked out, and that was all that counted.

Simon tried to imagine kissing Lyle. He could do it. Lyle was definitely cute. But then he thought about kissing Bram, and his whole body felt like it was coming alive. It was different.

Maybe if Blue had been Lyle, Simon would have tried to make it work. Maybe it would have worked, for a while.

He wouldn’t have stopped thinking about Bram, though.  
  
_Sometimes it really scares me when i think about blue,_ he texted Bram before he could stop himself.  
_  
>>?? Why_, Bram texted back five second later.

 _Because i didn’t know he was you, and i thought i was in love with him_  
_What if he’d been someone else_  
_And we weren’t together_

_> >but he was me_

_Yeah  
I’m really glad_

_> >I’m really glad, too  
>>You have no idea_

_I think I might have a little bit of an idea_

Simon looked at his phone and sighed.

_i’m grounded until friday  
Not that bad as punishments go_

_> >ill see you at school right  
>> like she’s not keeping you home_

_Are you kidding haha, i could murder someone and she’d send me to school  
The woman loves education_

_> >good  
>>i’m getting kind of addicted to seeing you_

There was a long pause. Simon looked at his bed, where Bram had slept. He thought about how good it had felt to wake up next to him, before it had become a nightmare.

_What were you going to tell me before i fell asleep_

_> >oh shit  
>>uh_

_Come on, please. I need something to get me through the next few days._

_> >i was gonna say thattttt_  
_> >i want to come on your face some time_  
_ >>only if you want!!_

The problem with texting Bram like this was that Simon’s hands got so sweaty he had to prop the phone up on the bed just to be able to type. He shifted onto his stomach, then reached down to adjust his dick. It was like he had a permanent boner, these days.

 _i know you worry that I only like things because you suggest them_  
_But i like...really like that_  
_Maybe this is embarrassing but um_  
_I really liked it when you kissed me after_  
_This afternoon_  
_It was like you really had to kiss me, you know?_  
_I like that i can make you like that_

_> >simon  
>>trust me when I say you always make me like that_

_Okay then trust me when i say i want it_

_> >okay. I will_  
  
The typing bubbles appeared and disappeared a few times. Simon waited, trying not to rub himself off against the bed. It was crazy how hot just talking to Bram _about_ sex was.  
  
_ >>is this turning you on as much as it’s turning me on_  
  
Simon felt too hot for his body. He wanted to tell Bram _yes_ but his fingers were shaking. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the things they’d done just that afternoon, about how much better every single part of it was than he’d ever been able to image.

Impulsively, he hit the facetime icon under Bram’s contact. He had just long enough to cringe at himself for it before Bram picked up, his fuzzed-out face filling Simon’s phone screen.

“What’s up?” said Bram, and even the low-res version of his smile was like taking shots had been, the few times Simon had done it: an almost-painful hit of intensity, followed by a slow, warming thrill.

Simon tried to smile back, but he was still riding some kind of insane adrenaline rush.

“Wow,” said Bram. “Did you, uh. Get my last text?”

Simon nodded. Sometimes when it was like this with Bram it was hard to talk. It was like he couldn’t work that part of his brain, he was too busy _needing_.

“Is that why you facetimed me?”

Simon nodded again. His hips were moving against the bed without permission, in little jerks.

Bram must have been able to tell that he was moving like that, frantically, because he said, “God, Simon. Are you about to come?”

Bram sounded like he couldn’t believe it, like Simon was doing something amazing. Simon just felt like he was an insane ball of hormones and want, a mess. He couldn’t have stopped even if he wanted to.

Bram’s voice got heavy, the way it did when they were together sometimes. Simon couldn’t look away from his blurry, beautiful face.

“Are you?” he asked again.

“I want to,” Simon said. He did, he really did, he just needed—

“I wish you were here,” he said. He was so turned on he would have said anything.

“Come on,” said Bram. “You can do it, come on,” and then he looked right at Simon through the screen and said, “come for me,” and Simon was coming everywhere—jerking and fucking into his bedspread, and it felt so good that he wanted to cry, and he wanted Bram there, he couldn’t get enough.

“Oh god,” Bram was saying, “that’s the hottest thing—your face—”

“Ugh,” said Simon, not even thinking, “it’s everywhere,” and then he looked at the phone and Bram was biting his lip like he was in pain.

“Oh,” Simon said. His brain was starting to work again.

“It’s really messy,” he said. Bram’s face on the phone slackened a little, swallowed.

“It’s all over my sheets,” said Simon.

Bram groaned, and now his face was moving in the frame, jittering, like he was—

God, like he was jerking off to this.

“I’m gonna have to wash everything,” said Simon. “There’s come all over me.”

For some reason, it was easier to say this stuff once he’d already come, once he could think again. It was easier to give this to Bram. Bram’s reactions made it so good, made it fun.

“See?” Simon asked, and he reached down to slide a hand through the mess on his stomach. He lifted his hand to the screen, tried to show Bram that it was wet. He probably couldn’t really see it through the low resolution, so before Simon could think about what he was doing, he stuck one finger in his mouth, to show Bram that there was something there. He licked it off, then another.

“ _Fuck_ ,” said Bram in a voice like someone was hurting him, and his head fell back so that Simon could see the whole beautiful line of his throat, and then he was gasping and gasping for air.

Simon watched Bram lie like that, breathing hard, so gone he’d probably forgotten Simon was watching. Simon didn’t really care. This was the world’s best, weirdest livestream.

After a little while he realized Bram had probably fallen asleep. His face was relaxed and his breathing had evened out. Maybe it was creepy, but with the phone on the pillow next to him Simon could almost imagine that Bram was there, next to him.

“Goodnight,” he said, even though Bram couldn’t hear him.

His phone was totally dead the next morning, but Simon didn’t really care.

 

“So, uh,” Leah said, sitting down next to him at lunch. “We had a great heart to heart the other day and then I haven’t really heard from you since.”

“I’m grounded,” said Simon.

“That’s not really a response to what I just said, but okay, let’s roll with it.”

“I, uh. My mom caught me and Bram—”

“Having _sex_?” Leah asked, just as Nick and Abby sat down at the table.

“Whoa, hello,” said Abby. “Sex?”

“This is a fun conversation to interrupt,” said Nick, stealing one of Leah’s fries. “Go on, please.”

“What?” said Simon. “No one was having sex. There’s no sex, okay, guys? My mom caught me and Bram _asleep_ in my bed. Literally sleeping.”

“I think the relevant question is how you got there,” Abby pointed out.

“Were you naked?” asked Nick.

“Okay, extremely personal question,” said Simon. “Let’s just say that it was evident that I’d been breaking some rules. And now I’m grounded for three days. End of story. Are you satisfied?”

“Not entirely,” said Abby, her eyes lighting up like they did whenever she was about to say something provocative. “What were the rules? How were they broken? And can we have details about Bram’s—”

“ _No,_ ” said Simon, and the same time that Nick looked at Abby and said, “Excuse me?”

“That information is never off-limits,” said Abby. “Right, Leah?”

“I would very much like to be excluded from this narrative,” said Leah, “one that I never asked to be part of, since 2009.”

“Wow, throwback,” said Simon. “Nice.”

“I’m lost,” said Nick.

“Hi,” said Bram, sitting down. Abby took a gulp of milk.

“Hi,” said Simon. He could feel himself smiling, a facial expression that he couldn’t really get under control. It was just that sometimes the reality of seeing Bram at school felt so crazy—like he wasn’t just this person Simon texted and had freak sex with in the privacy of his own life. Not that that stuff wasn’t good. But to be reminded that Bram was a real person, a real part of Simon’s life and his friends’ lives and the daily mundanity of school—it was like a reminder that he was out, now. That all the good parts of his life could happen simultaneously.

“Watcha thinking about?” asked Bram, grinning at him, and Simon smiled back.

“You,” he said.

“Oh jesus, get a rooooooom,” sang Abby, and Leah stole a handful of fries from her, and Bram was laughing. Simon was still smiling.

 

“You’re really happy,” Leah said to him, when he was giving her a ride home after school.

“Like, today?” Simon asked. He was still thinking about what Bram had said.

“Sure, but I mean, like, generally. I’m glad—I’m just glad you got to have this part of high school, you know? Where you’re not, like, worried all the time a little bit.”

Leah was quiet for a second. Simon could see her picking at her nail polish and he put a hand over hers to stop her. She looked up at him and smiled.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when the Martin stuff happened,” she said. “I was too sad to be the right kind of friend and I don’t feel great about it.”

“Oh,” said Simon. “It’s okay.”

Leah looked at him. “Not really,” she said. “Anyway, didn’t really get it until I realized, like, how much happier you are now. I sort of thought of you being gay just as this secret you’d been hiding from me. I didn’t realize it wasn’t just a fact, it was kind of, like, a key to you being—happier.” She paused. “I don’t know if that makes sense.”

“Yeah,” said Simon. He felt like he was going to cry, which was weird, because nothing Leah was saying was making him _sad_. “It makes sense.”

“Love you forever, Simon,” Leah said. Then she grinned at him.

“We keep having these super-intense convos,” she said. “Tell me something gossipy. We have to reroute before I cry.”

“You, too?” Simon asked, laughing, gesturing at his face.

“C’mon,” said Leah. “Tell me about Bram stuff.”

“Uh,” said Simon. “He, uh. He said he loves me?”

“Well, that’s not _not_ kind of heavy,” said Leah. “But okay. Do you—is that good?”

“Yeah,” said Simon, and he could hear himself smiling. “It’s good.”

“You deserve good, Simon Spier,” said Leah.

 

The problem, as it unfolded over the next few days of Simon’s grounding, was that he hadn’t—he had never told Bram that he loved him. He’d kind of assumed that he had, that first time he half-accidentally signed one of the emails “love,” but hearing Bram say it out loud—and say it to _him_ , to Simon Spier, not “Jacques,” made him realize that it wasn’t the same, not at all.

He didn’t know what Bram thought, though. Maybe Bram had thought he’d just been—saying it back to Simon. Returning the favor.

Blue had been like being in love safely, anonymously. But that wasn’t _real_ , Simon thought, lying on the couch and trying to do his English homework. _Real_ was the way his body thrilled when Bram shoved in next to him on the bench in the cafeteria. Real was what it had felt like the first time Bram met Nora, when he’d rolled up his sleeves and helped her roll out dough for homemade pasta, and then eaten it happily even when it turned out to be a gluey mess. Real was sitting in the stands at a soccer game and knowing that when Bram turned to scan the crowd, he was looking for Simon.

Simon flung his head back into the couch pillows and tried not to think about it. It was hard enough not to be able to spend time alone with Bram until Friday without adding this new crisis. And that was messed up, too—that suddenly two more days without being about to—touch—Bram felt like an eternity.

Before they’d started whatever it was that they’d started that afternoon on this very couch, it hadn’t felt weird to go a few days without seeing Bram. They’d texted a lot, sure, and he’d looked forward to picking Bram up in the morning, to movie dates with him, to making out in the bleachers after soccer practice ended.

But that had all been excitement and anticipation, not this—this insane need.

Simon pulled out his phone.

 _I think i’m not going to make it to friday_ , he sent. He waited two minutes, then five, and then twenty, before giving up. Simon buried his phone in the couch pillows and sighed, opening _Othello_ again.

It was Simon’s dad who found his phone in the couch cushions after dinner.

“Ugh,” he said. “My butt keeps buzzing. Is this the phone that your mother and I paid seven hundred dollars for, Simon? That you bugged us for for months? Did you lose it in the couch? Wow, I guess you must not really need a phone this nice—”

“Haha, good one,” said Simon, grabbing the phone. “Gotta go—homework calls.” He tried not to practically run up the stairs, but it was close.  
  
_ >>sorry, soccer practice_  
_ >>but same_, Bram had sent.

 _> >got too used to getting to touch you i guess_  
_ >>something i really like by the way_  
  
Bram had sent those some time around 7:15, then there was a fifteen-minute gap in the timestamps.  
  
_> >hey i don’t want it to be weird that all our heartfelt emails about the meaning of life and stuff turned into a bunch of sexting_  
_ >>the sexting is obviously great_  
_ >>but i like the other stuff too_

 _Me too,_ Simon wrote. He thought about the conversation he’d had with Leah at Waffle House.

 _maybe we needed that more you know_  
_You were the only person who knew the entire real me_  
_That was so exciting and new_  
_Now like… sex is exciting and new_  
_But i like talking about everything with you_

The typing bubbles appeared. It was kind of pathetic how relieved they made Simon, sometimes.  
  
_> >You’re a wise one, Simon_  
_ >>hey guess what_  
_ >>looking forward to talking to you tomorrow_

Simon put the phone down, smiling. When he went back to _Othello_ this time it was a lot easier to concentrate. He kind of felt bad for Othello, for how hard it was for him to talk to Desdemona about stuff.  
  
_Do you think I could write my Othello paper about a lack of open and honest communication as othello’s fatal flaw_ , he texted Bram.  
  
_ >>yeah he probably should have wooed desdemona through anonymous letters first,_ Bram sent back. _  
>> <3_

 

On Friday morning, there was a Get Out of Jail Free card from the family Monopoly set sitting on Simon’s breakfast plate.

 _Have fun at Abby’s!_ his mom had written on the back, which made Simon feel a little bit bad about telling her a huge lie and breaking a major rule on his first night of freedom. Not that bad, though.

School passed in a blur, mostly. The slowest-moving blur of all time. When Bram looked at him in English, Simon had to look away. There was a fine line between how great it was to have class with your boyfriend every day and what would happen to your social life if people saw you pop a huge boner in the middle of said class, and today all he could think about was Bram’s fingers and what they might or might not be doing to him that night.

“I have to go to the bathroom, Mr. Wise,” he said, because right now he was really riding the dangerous edge of that line.

In the boy’s room, which was blessedly empty, he leaned back against the gross wall and tried to get a hold of himself. If he reacted like this every time he even looked at Bram in class, it was going to be a really long senior spring.

The bathroom door opened, and Simon jerked, trying to look like he’d been doing something normal. Washing his hands?

Then he looked in the mirror, and the person who’d come in behind him was Bram.

Bram smiled his nervous smile. It was still a good one, but it made something inside Simon twist in a more painful way than the happy smiles.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” said Bram. “You seemed kind of—weird, in class. Like you were avoiding me? I mean if you need some space I can give it to you—”

“Oh my god,” said Simon. “I couldn’t look at you because I can’t stop thinking about how we might have sex tonight.”

“Are you nervous?” asked Bram, not meeting Simon’s eyes in the mirror. “I know we haven’t really talked about it. I don’t want to assume anything. I thought we could just see how things went.”

“I was getting a boner in class,” said Simon. “Full disclosure.”

“Oh,” said Bram. He smiled again, a happier one this time. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Simon.

“Far be it from me to get upset about that,” said Bram. He came up behind Simon and hugged him around the chest, so that they were both looking into the bathroom mirror. Bram was just tall enough that he had to bend down a little bit to rest his chin on Simon’s shoulder. They looked at each other in the mirror.

It felt really, really good to lean back against Bram and feel him standing there, solid and tall and real.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to have sex,” said Simon. He looked at Bram’s face in the mirror. Bram didn’t stop smiling. If anything, his smile got warmer. It made his eyes crinkle up around the edges.

“That’s okay,” said Bram. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to do everything we’ve done,” said Simon. “And I want to, um. I feel weird saying this in a school bathroom.”

“Okay,” said Bram. “Text it to me later.” He really seemed okay, like he wasn’t disappointed. He hugged Simon a little bit tighter, a quick squeeze.

“How’d you get out of class?” Simon asked, realizing. “There’s only one bathroom pass. Mr. Wise is really strict about it.”

“Yeah,” said Bram. “I, um. I might have said it was a really, really bad emergency.”

“Oh my god,” said Simon. “Did you tell the class that you were about to shit your pants?”

“Well, not in so many words. But yeah, that might have been the jist. I’m sure my reputation will recover in a few months.”

“I can’t believe it,” said Simon. “I love you.”

He wasn’t even thinking about it, wasn’t agonizing about it like he had been for the past week. He wasn’t worried about the chance that Blue might have been someone else. He was just looking at the Bram he knew, here in the mirror in the boy’s bathroom, and it was true.

After that, the smile on Bram’s face was in a whole new category of smile.

 

When he got to Bram’s house that night, all Simon could think about was the last time he’d been here—the Halloween party, and his half-sick anticipation that maybe Bram would be Blue, that he’d confess and everything would be okay. Instead, there had been the swirl of alcohol and the gut-wrenching moment when he’d opened Bram’s bedroom door and seen him there, with a girl.

They’d wasted so much time, because of that. _Simon_ had wasted so much time talking himself into being in love with Lyle, with Cal. He’d had to break down the version of Blue he’d created that melded with everything he knew and liked about Bram. He’d had to go back over everything and re-convince himself that it wasn’t Bram, that Blue and Bram couldn’t possibly be the same person.

Maybe that’s why it had been so hard to get his head around the idea that Blue had turned out to be Bram, after all.

But then Bram, the real Bram, was opening the door, and it was like all Simon’s over-anxious thoughts got washed away.

“Hey,” said Bram. He hugged Simon tightly, and his hands came up to curl against Simon’s head, one on either side. Bram kissed him, a deep press of his lips, and then he pulled away.

“So,” he said. “Two questions—one, have you eaten yet, and two, what was the thing you wanted to try with me that isn’t sex and that you never remembered to text me about?”

Simon leaned in to kiss him. All the weird sex stuff aside, sometimes it was just as big of thrill that he could do this, any time he wanted. Feel Bram’s warm lips opening under his, get to have the way his hands tightened just a little bit where they clung to Simon whenever Simon deepened the kiss.

“I had some food at home,” he said.

“Good,” said Bram. “Because I’m not even hungry. I felt like it would be polite to ask that.”

He looked kind of hungry, though, when he looked at Simon.

“And two,” said Simon, trying to work up the courage to talk about it.

“Let’s talk upstairs,” said Bram, like he’d just noticed that they were still on his doorstep. He led Simon through his house by the hand, too fast for Simon to really take in the way it looked when it wasn’t full of drunken teenagers in bad costumes.

When he opened the door to his room, Simon was worried for a second that he’d see another vision of the Bram that had half-broken his heart that night. But instead of that Bram there was this Bram, still looking at Simon hungrily. Simon was allowed to kiss this Bram, so he did, again and again and again, and then they were on his huge four-poster bed, Simon half-lying on it, with Bram crouched over him, still kissing him—working his lips over Simon’s jaw and down to his neck, sucking a little bit on the place where his jaw hinged.

It was so good Simon could barely think. He was rock hard, the way he got any time Bram’s lips got near any part of his body. If he moved his hips just right, he could thrust against Bram’s thigh, and the friction felt so _good_ —

“Hang on,” said Bram, pulling back. Simon tried to catch his breath.

“We should talk about what you want,” he said. He was breathing hard, too.

“Not that this isn’t amazing,” he added. “Were you—are you going to, you know—”

“Yeah, I’m about to come in my pants again,” said Simon, roughly. He liked the things it did to Bram’s face.

“God,” said Bram. “Is it really messed up how much I like that?”

“Maybe,” said Simon, trying to sit up on the bed so that he could put an arm around Bram’s shoulders. “But I like that you like it. I like that you like it as much or more than you even like it in the first place. Is _that_ messed up?”

“It’s a little confusing, maybe,” said Bram, but he was starting to smile.

“We might just have to accept that we’re messed up together,” said Simon, and kissed Bram on the cheek. Then Bram turned his head, and they were kissing for real again, and Simon ran his hands down Bram’s sides and thought about how good his body was—how he could feel his muscles, like he really had _abs_ , it wasn’t just being a skinny teenager, and he wanted to feel more, and then his hands were under Bram’s shirt and he was lifting it off, struggling to pull it over Bram’s head.

Bram’s chest was all there in front of him, suddenly, and Simon didn’t know where to start.

“I want to kiss you everywhere,” he said to Bram, running his hands all over him—it just felt so good, it was all so good.

“Hang on again,” said Bram, and grabbed his hands, held them together. Simon sucked in a breath.

“I’m gonna come if you do that,” he said to Bram, and looked at where Bram’s hands were all over his.

“For real?” Bram asked.

“Messed up, I know,” said Simon.

“Too hot to even talk about,” said Bram, but he let go of him.

“We can—we canl do that after you tell me what you were thinking about,” said Bram. And fuck, maybe it was also messed up that hearing Bram kind of—tell him how things were going to be—got him so hot, but it did.

“Yeah,” said Simon. “Okay.” It was easier to talk about this stuff when they were in the middle of it, somehow. When sex wasn’t this big abstract deal but something that he and Bram were doing, here, together. Sometimes sex with Bram felt as warm and safe and private as the emails had. A place to figure things out.

“I just—I do want to have sex with you, definitely. Absolutely.”

“Me too,” said Bram, and smiled at him. “By the way, hearing you talk about it is really hot.”

Simon kissed him hard, to show him that it was hot for him, too.

“But I haven’t really, like. It seems like there should be other stuff that comes before sex—I’m not even sure what I’ll really like, you know? I guess I need to spend more time—figuring it out. I thought maybe we could, like, figure it out together?”

“What do you want to figure out?” Bram asked. His hand was drawing little circles on Simon’s lower back, under his shirt. It was incredibly distracting, in a really good way.

“Uh,” said Simon. “My, uh, butt, I guess. And if I—if I like stuff in it?” He buried his face in his hands.

“Sorry,” he said, muffled. “I guess there’s no way to make that sound sexy.”

“I don’t know,” said Bram. “It’s not _not_ sexy, talking about your butt. So that’s what you want to try? Me and, um. Your butt? It doesn’t have to be that way if you don’t want, you know.”

“I think I want it that way,” said Simon. “That’s what I think about when I think about it. Not that I would never want—you know. But, um. In the future.”

“You think about it?” asked Bram. He said it mostly into Simon’s ear, because he was kissing Simon’s neck again, slow lingering kisses that traveled up the side of his neck and then back down.

“Yeah,” said Simon, breathlessly.

“I think about it, too,” said Bram. “I got some. Lube. Just in case.”

“Can you hold my hands again?” Simon asked. He felt needy and impatient, like he needed them to stop talking so much and just do something. He wanted to be back in the place where he couldn’t really think about anything except what was happening, and how good it felt.

“Yeah,” said Bram, and grabbed his wrists. He held them above Simon’s head, one in each hand, and then he pressed Simon down onto the bed so that his hands were up above him, against the mattress, and he was pinned there.

“Oh,” said Simon. “God. Bram—”

He couldn’t say anything else. It felt too good. Bram’s hips were against his, his dick hard in his jeans. Simon could feel it right there, and it was perfect, he could move his hips against it just enough. Bram transferred both of his wrists into one hand, then, and that was almost enough to make Simon come, but Bram was saying something.

“Hang on,” he was saying, soft and urgent. “Hang on, Simon, god, you’re so hot. Just wait, I wanna—just let me see, just, with you—”

He was fumbling at Simon’s pants, unzipping them and tugging them down, and then he was tugging his own jeans and boxers down, and Simon could see how hard he was.

“I want to, together,” said Bram, and Simon nodded.

“Anything,” he said, “Bram, please—”

Bram had both of their dicks, then, in one hand, and that was enough to make Simon come everywhere, all over himself and Bram’s hand and Bram’s dick—god.

“Oh fuck,” said Bram. “You’re such a mess,” and Simon loved him so much, loved that that one word made him so crazy. It was so sweet, and hot, and something only he knew about Bram. That thought, that he was the only one who got to have this, that this was a Simon-and-Bram secret, one that not even Jacques and Blue had shared, was so amazing that before he knew it he was talking, babbling, barely thinking about what he was saying.

“I’m such a mess,” he said. “Bram, please—I came all over myself, I’m so messy. I want—I want you to come on me, please. Please mess me up more.”

“Oh god,” said Bram. “Oh fuck, oh, Simon, Simon—” and then he was jerking himself faster, with the hand that was all covered with Simon’s come, and then Simon could see it, Bram coming on him in long white streaks, all over where he was messy already.

Bram sort of collapsed forward and then he was murmuring into Simon’s ear, half-gasping.

“Simon,” he was saying. “God, I love you. You’re so good. I love you, I love you.”

Simon could move his arms, now, and he lifted one up to rub through Bram’s hair.

“I really liked that,” he said, so Bram would know.

“Yeah?” asked Bram, from where he was buried in Simon’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” said Simon. “I want you to put your fingers in me while you clean me up,” he said, because he felt so warm and happy and whatever he wanted, it was going to be okay.

“God,” said Bram. “That sounds really good.” He sounded dazed.

“In a minute, though,” said Simon. “C’mere.”

He half-pulled and half-scrambled until the were both lying fully on the bed, then he curled into Bram’s side. Bram put an arm around him and tugged the blanket out from under them.

“I’m gonna get your sheets all messed up,” said Simon, realizing.

“Trust me when I say it’s not a problem,” said Bram. “I’ll have to mysteriously do all my laundry before my mom gets home tomorrow, anyway.”

“This is a nice bed,” said Simon. “Being naked in it with you is nice.”

“I’m sorry about the last time you were in here,” said Bram. He shifted until he was curled around Simon’s back, like he had been when they fell asleep in Simon’s bed. Simon could feel how warm Bram was down his whole body, and the way Bram twisted one leg over his like he wanted to keep him there. He could even feel Bram’s dick, mostly soft now, nestled against his lower back. He pushed back into it a little bit, squirming in a good way, just to feel all of it even more.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I was Blue earlier,” Bram said, arms tightening around Simon. “I’m sorry that you were brave enough to want to know who I was and I made you wait so long. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you when people found out.” His mouth was against the back of Simon’s neck, and Simon could feel the heat of Bram saying all of that into his skin.

“It’s okay,” said Simon, because it really was. “I was so mad at Martin for taking coming out away from me. I’m just—I’m glad I didn’t pressure you into doing it before you were ready. I’m glad you were brave enough to say no until you wanted to say yes.”

“Plus,” he added, realizing it for the first time, maybe, here with Bram wrapped around him, “I’m glad that everything with Blue wasn’t easy and perfect. It’s hard to explain, I’m just—I went through all these scenarios of imagining who it could have been, you know? And if I hadn’t had to do that, if I’d known it was you from the beginning—I wouldn’t have realized how glad I was that it wasn’t anyone else except for you.”

“Oh,” said Bram, softly. Simon thought that maybe he could feel him smiling into his neck. He liked the image of that.

“That makes me want to do a lot of stuff to you,” said Bram. He was kissing Simon’s neck, now, then down his back. He flipped Simon onto his back, suddenly, which was extremely hot and something Simon would have to think about a lot in the future, and then he was kissing his stomach, and his hips.

“Hang on,” said Bram. “Don’t move.”

He got up off the bed, then paused, just looking at Simon.

“I like when you smile like that for me,” said Simon.

“It’s easy to do,” said Bram, and then he found the lube.

“It’s cold,” he said, surprised, when he opened the bottle, and then rubbed his hands together like he was trying to warm it up for Simon, which made _Simon_ feel warm all over, regardless of what it actually did to the lube.

“Should I, um,” Simon asked, bending his knees so his feet were flat on the bed. He spread his legs a little bit, which felt both extremely awkward and strangely hot at the same time. It was crazy to think about showing this part of himself to Bram, but it also made him feel good. Another thing that was just for them to share.

“You look really good like that,” said Bram, like he could read Simon’s mind. He kept smiling at him, his slowest, sweetest smile, and then he was bending down so he could go back to kissing Simon’s hips and thighs, licking at him where the come was almost dry all over his skin.

Simon wished that Bram could hold his wrists down while he did this, and then he thought that maybe they could try tying his wrists up instead, with a tie, or something. Next time. The thought was so good, especially combined with what Bram’s mouth was doing, that he was hard all the way again all of a sudden.

“I want you to come again before I do this,” said Bram, and Simon groaned.

“I will if you keep telling me what to do,” he said.

Bram took Simon’s dick and stroked it, and his hand was wet and slippery from the lube, and he was talking to Simon in between the kisses to his stomach and thighs.

“I want you to come all over yourself,” he said, and Simon could just angle his head enough to see that Bram was flushing darker all over, embarrassed, but he was still talking. Because Simon wanted it.

“I want you to come everywhere so I can clean you up while I put my fingers inside you,” said Bram, and then his mouth moved further down, to Simon’s balls. He felt electrically good, like every part of him was lighting up, bright and flashing.

“I’ll make it so good,” Bram was saying, stroking Simon faster, “I’ll get you all wet, you’ll be such a mess everywhere,” and then Simon was coming, hard, and Bram groaned and licked at, swallowing.

“I love that so much,” he said, and Simon said, “please, now, can you—”

“Yeah,” said Bram, “okay. Just tell me—if you don’t like it, I promise I’ll stop.”

“I promise, I promise,” said Simon, and then Bram was moving a wet finger over his hole, slowly, then pushing it inside. It was just okay, kind of weird, until Bram moved in a little more.

“Can you,” Simon said, “can you move it—in and out, yeah—like that, wow, wow, Bram, wow—” and then he couldn’t talk because it felt too good, _too_ good, so intense Simon thought he might cry because there wasn’t anywhere else for the way it felt to _go_.

Bram put another finger in him, then, and licked back over his dick, not even sucking it, just mouthing at him, but that was enough, Simon was coming again, a third time in less than half an hour. It almost hurt, like it was being pulled out of him, and he realized that he was bucking his hips, trying to work himself down on Bram’s fingers to get more of it, because even too fucking much wasn’t enough of how good this felt.

When it was over he was still shaking, shivering, like he couldn’t stop, and Bram was leaning down over him asking if he was okay.

“It was so good,” Simon said, or tried to, and Bram said, “are you sure? You look—are you sure you’re okay?”

“It was a lot,” Simon said, “but in a good way, I promise. A really—a really good way, wow. Bram. That was a successful experiment.”

“I’m glad,” said Bram, kissing him. “I liked it.”

“I really, really want to have sex with you,” said Simon. “I’m sure now. Not tonight, though. But soon.”

“Okay,” said Bram, and kissed him again.

“Tonight I want to suck your dick,” said Simon. “Except I’m really about to pass out, wow. I think you killed me with sex.”

“In the morning is okay,” said Bram, but Simon wasn’t kidding. He really did _want_ to, it was just that the thought of moving his body around was unbearable right now.

“No, I want it,” said Simon. “Can you, um. Maybe I could just lie here, and you could kind of, kneel—”

“Oh,” said Bram, his eyes getting big. “Really?”

“Didn’t you want to come on my face?” asked Simon. “I didn’t forget that, you know.”

“Holy fuck,” said Bram. He looked like Simon’s whole body felt—blissed out, half-dead.

“Please,” said Simon. “I want to feel it.” It had never even occurred to him that that was a thing he might ever want, but thinking about it now, he felt hungry for it.

“You don’t,” said Bram, “You don’t have to ask twice.” His voice was shaking, but he came up the bed to kneel by Simon’s head. His dick was so hard Simon could see it dripping, just a little bit, at the tip.

He tried to reach out to lick it, but his head was so heavy that he just kind of made a pleading, greedy noise.

“Okay,” said Bram, getting it. “I got you.” Simon loved when he said that.

“I got you,” Bram said, again, and he was moving his dick closer to Simon, letting Simon mouth and lick at it, just a little bit, just to get the taste that he wanted.

“Okay?” Bram asked, and Simon nodded.

“I can’t—I have to—” Bram said. His hand was moving frantically over his dick. Simon loved it, seeing his fingers like this. God, Bram’s fingers—where they’d just been—Simon moaned. All of it was so very, incredibly good, and he was going to get even more of it, right now, because Bram was asking if he was sure, was he sure, and Simon was nodding and closing his eyes and he could feel it hitting him, and warm spread on his cheek, across his nose and chin. Bram rubbed his dick on him, like he was spreading it around, across Simon’s lips, and he opened them a little bit, just to try to taste Bram.

“God,” Bram said. “You are—you are the hottest person in the entire world, Simon Spier. You make me feel so crazy. I want—the things I want to do to you, I can’t even believe you, I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

“Come on,” said Simon. “Aren’t you gonna clean me up?”

“I love you,” said Bram, and then he was kissing Simon everywhere, cleaning his own come off of Simon’s face, like he was devouring him. Like he couldn’t get enough.

“I love you too,” Simon murmured against Bram’s searching lips, and then he was asleep.

 

When he woke up this time, it wasn’t to a nightmare at all. It was to the exact opposite: the sun streaking in through Bram’s skylight, highlighting the long lines of his body where he lay on the bed next to Simon. He was still asleep, one hand curled under the pillow, stretched out on his stomach.

Simon propped himself up on one hand and looked—at Bram’s body, his shining, impossible beauty. It was okay, he thought, to want this too. It wasn’t bad, or shallow, that the fact that Bram was physically _gorgeous_ made the emotional connection he’d had to Blue feel ten times as intense. Bodies were good things, and Bram’s body and the things he wanted to do with it just made him braver, and sweeter, and kinder, than Simon had ever imagined a person could be. Bram and the things their bodies did together, which were weird and maybe messed up, but which also made Simon feel so good—every part of him, and maybe especially his heart. As gross and cliched as that was.

Bram opened one eye, blearily, and then the other. He blinked a few times, then focused in on Simon.

“Hey, you,” he said. That smile, the one that made Simon feel like he’d felt every time he got a new email from Blue, but which belonged to the physical reality of Bram’s body, spread across his face like the light that was streaking into the room.

“I like your smile,” said Simon.

“You’ve said,” said Bram.

“Yeah, well,” said Simon, leaning in to kiss the smile in question, “get used to hearing it.”

“Okay,” said Bram. And he did.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from "I Really Like You," by Carly Rae Jepsen, because the only thing this perfect movie was missing was a Carly Rae song or two.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Back to Basics](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14315253) by [theyellowcurtains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyellowcurtains/pseuds/theyellowcurtains)




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